


The Two Teams

by dragongirl251, SiobhanCven



Series: The Jock in the Photograph [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Highschool AU, Lord of the Rings Highschool Au, Multi, prepare for gay, second installment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragongirl251/pseuds/dragongirl251, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiobhanCven/pseuds/SiobhanCven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boromir has been expelled, and as a result of the his threats to Frodo, Frodo has decided to continue on his own, taking Sam with him and damaging the already frail links within the Photograph Destruction Squad. Merry and Pippin have been taken by the Mordor Football Team. Aragorn and Legolas have training to attend before the Big Game, but with the help of Gimli and the Rohan house captain, Eomer, will they get Merry and Pippin back before it's too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take it for the Team

**Author's Note:**

> ayyy we'll fix the tags later(Well i will) chapter one book two, bring it the fuck on.  
> WARNING: excessive use of the word FUCK in this chapter

Legolas raised a split eyebrow at Aragorn, wincing slightly as the wound opened, “We can’t go after them. We have to go to training.”

Most of the people who’d been in the fight were picking themselves up, dusting themselves off and walking away, shooting the trio resentful glances over their shoulders.

“But--”

“But nothing, Aragorn.” Legolas’ eyes were cold, hand resting lightly on Gimli’s shoulder. “The game’s tomorrow, we have to go. Come on, Gimli.” Legolas took the hand off Gimli’s shoulder and offered it to help his friend up. Gimli pulled himself up and Aragorn couldn’t help but notice that they held on for a little too long.

He chuckled nervously and nudged Legolas, eyes firmly trained on the ground, “We should-- uhm-- go to training-- er, we don’t wanna be, you know, late?”

Legolas seemed to snap out of his trance long enough to give Aragorn a withering look, “You’re always late.” he snapped,

“Yeah but sometimes it was you who made me late,” Aragorn winked, seeming to forget the tension that still hung between them.

Gimli glared at the ground, refusing to look at either of them, “So are we going or what?”

“But you’re not on the team?” Aragorn stared, confused.

Silence descended for seconds, and it was Legolas who spoke, “Do you have a problem with that?” He folded his arms in defence.

Aragorn’s eyebrows rose in distress, “I didn’t-- that’s not what I--”

“Let’s go, Gimli” Legolas turned, flicking his hair over his shoulder and grabbing Gimli by the arm before stalking off, Gimli stumbling after him, trying to accommodate for Legolas’ flamboyantly long strides.

Aragorn looked around, searching for some sort of help and receiving none.

…

“What the _fuck_?”

The trio stood in front of Eomer, who glared at them, arms folded across his chest.

“Why aren’t you running laps, man?” Aragorn asked, jovially, “You’re not captain.”

Eomer’s eye twitched, “First of all, you’re late, second of all, who the _fuck_ is that?” He violently waved a hand at Gimli, who scowled, “and third of all, I am filling for your _stupid friend_ who thought it was the prime _fucking_ time to beat up the opposing team and get himself expelled the fucking _day before the next game_ \-- oh wait,” Eomer put his hand up to his head and smiled manically, “you already know that, because you were there, _helping him_.”

“But--” Aragorn began,

Eomer held up a hand, clenching his teeth. He opened his mouth again, words dangerously quiet, “I’m not _finished_ yet. So in conclusion, I am filling in for your stupid friend’s stupider brother who has, in his art filled little mind, decided that the time is not _fucking_ ripe to check his texts, or his calls, or the announcements,” he took a breath, eyes watering, “all _fucking_ five of them. How much can you miss in the darkroom? Tell me Aragorn, how _fucking much_?”

Legolas held up a pale hand, “Actually--”

“Did I fucking ask you?”

“No,” Legolas began, “but--”

“But you know what I _do_ want to ask you, Legolas Greenleaf? What possessed you, once more, to violate _my field_ and _my rules_ by bringing that thing here? You think you can do this again Legolas? Do you actually think I will let this slide? Do you _enjoy_ this? Do you think your expensive shampoo and designer scarves represent a licence to do as you like? Because they don’t, Legolas, _they_. _don’t_.”

“If you don’t mind me saying,” Legolas began, “you’ve only been captain for--”

“If you don’t  mind me saying,” Eomer continued, “get your _fucking dog_ off. my. field.”

“With all due respect--” Legolas began without a hint of respect but was cut off once again,

“Did I fucking stutter?” Eomer’s face had turned a nasty shade of purple,

“No Sir--” began Aragorn, “I mean Eomer...I mean--”

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking imbecile.” Eomer snapped, he pointed towards the oval where the rest of the team had stopped running laps to stare at him, “Now go and join them.” He gritted,

“But we haven’t changed…”

“There was a time for changing, Aragorn, and that time is passed. Get the fuck onto that field, _both of you_ and fucking run until your pretty little arses sweat themselves into the ground, you worthless pieces of _shit_.” Eomer drew a breath and turned to the rest of the team with fire in his eyes, “Did I fucking _tell you_ to stop?” They immediately began running and Aragorn and Legolas went to reluctantly join them.

Eomer breathed out and his shoulders relaxed. He began to walk towards the team, but caught sight of Gimli, still standing on the field. The manic glint returned to his eyes.

“Are you _fucking_ deaf.” He rounded on Gimli, “Get the fuck off my field before I turn you into a shop assignment you _fucking tradie_.”

Gimli’s mouth was hanging open as he stared at the newly appointed captain of the Eriador High football team.

“Do I need to pound it into a skull with your sledgehammer? Are you as thick as the planks of wood you handle? Do you need me to get Legolas so he can drag you away on a leash? Is that what you’re accustomed to? _Fucking leave_?”

Gimli shook his head disbelief and turned to go, “You’re insane…” he muttered before walking off the field.

…

In the locker room after training Legolas and Aragorn stood next to each other awkwardly, sweat dripping down the backs of their uniforms as the rest of their team changed out of their gear around them.

“We need his help, you know?” Legolas informed Aragorn, “He’s Rohan’s house captain, and therefore, has connections. If you want those two abominations back, we’ll need his help.”

“They’re not abomin--abon-- they’re not that…they’re my boys.” Aragorn looked hurt.

“Whatever you want to call them, if you want them back, we’ll need help. His help.” Legolas gestured toward the wildly gesticulating captain.

“Okay,” Aragorn seemed to ready himself, “I’ll do it.”

Legolas put his face in his hands, “Just please, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Why would I do anything stupid?” Aragorn grinned upward.

Legolas shook his head in disbelief, “I really don’t know exactly how it happens, but you seem to do it a lot.” he smiled through gritted teeth.

“Okay Legolas, I’m ready, I’m going to do it, I’m ready.” he said, limbering up.

“Just do it,” A small smile played on Legolas’ lips as he rolled his eyes.

“Ahem,” Aragorn cleared his throat loudly for several seconds, “hey Eomer!” He called, his voice dropping at least an octave. Legolas looked at him in horror, but said nothing as the furious captain strode over.

“ _What_ is it that you want.” His voice was too controlled for Legolas’ liking,

“Ahem, well, ahem--” Legolas touched Aragorn’s shoulder, shaking his head to stop Aragorn continuing his throat clearing agenda. Aragorn looked at him questioningly and Legolas shook his head.

“What he means to say, Eomer, is that we’d like to speak to your head of house, as ours is--” Aragorn cut him off with yet more throat clearing. Legolas glared at him before continuing, “ _otherwise occupied_.”

Eomer heaved a dramatic sigh, “While it would undoubtedly be fascinating to help you with your _little problem_ , and the joy it would bring to my life would no doubt be _boundless_ , I cannot help you with your all important problem because I too am _otherwise occupied_.”

“But we’re a team, Eomer! A team! Teams stick together, teams help their members. Just like the Photograph Destruction Squad does!” He nodded encouragingly at Legolas, who looked back at him coldly.

“What the _absolute shit_ is the Photograph Destruction Squad?” Eomer said incredulously.

Legolas jumped to repair any damage Aragorn may have just caused, “Don’t worry about him Eomer, you know how he is.”

“Well however he is, I can’t help you because I have far too much to deal with. I am up to my ears in _your shit_ , and goddamn it, Legolas, it stinks.” He took a deep breath and the manic glint returned once again, “On top of the _shit pile_ you call a football team I’ve been left to work with, there is the _sprinkling_ of the stress put upon me by the fucking prom committee that I, as a head of house have been forced to join. And on the top of all of that, the glace _fucking_ cherry, is the fact that my head of house is slowly, but surely, going insane. So forgive me, Legolas Greenleaf, if I am _otherwise occupied_.”

…

“So Merry, what did we end up having for lunch?” Pippin asked Merry conversationally, dodging a rock as he was dragged across the park by his elbow.

Merry looked at him in horror, a few crumbs of lime flavoured chips falling from around his mouth. He dropped the packet, a look of panic filling his eyes, “Pippin, I don’t think we had any.”

“You can’t be serious,” Pippin put his free hand over his stomach in dismay, “that hasn’t happened in years!”

“Pippin, I don’t think it’s ever happened.”

“Dark days, Merry, dark days. I can feel my body going into starvation mode.”

“I’m wasting away, Pippin.” said Merry, swallowing the last of his chips.

“It’s hard, I know Merry, but we have to keep going.”

“Will you two please shut the hell up?” Grunted the beefy linebacker of the Mordor football team as he dragged them through the park toward the looming gates of Mordor School for Boys.

“But we’re starving back here,” Pippin exclaimed in distress, licking the flavouring that was still clinging to his fingers.

“You were _just_ eating chips,” the linebacker growled, tugging roughly at their elbows.

“This is inhumane, the authorities wouldn’t allow it!” Merry yelled, thrashing within the bigger boy’s grip.

“There ‘aint no authorities where we’re going, pipsqueek,” he said, grinning down at his charge.

“Well I mean, there would be some sort of authority I mean like, it’s a school, yeah?” Merry looked across at Pippin, who was being dragged limply across the grass.

“Yeah,” Pippin said with mock weakness as he closed his eyes, “like teachers and vice principals, and principals and, and--”

“And prefects, never forget the prefect system,” Merry nodded knowingly

The linebacker grinned and nodded toward his chest where a blood-orange prefect badge gleamed, “Oh, I know about the prefect system alright.”

The two boys sighed with dejection, “At least we’ve still got the teachers,” Merry comforted Pippin, who sagged against the ground dramatically.

“Whatever makes you happy,” The linebacker said, chuckling darkly, “but just a heads up, we’re not taking you anywhere the teachers might be.”

“Well that’s not very nice.” Pippin moaned from his dramatic reclined position.

“Yeah, that’s just stupid.” Merry added, “So are we there yet?” he asked.

“Chatty little shits aren’t you?” grunted the linebacker, “But if it shuts you up, then yes, sure we are.”

“That’s just great!” Merry nodded, “Thank you Mr Prefect sir, you’re the best!” he added over the rumbling of his stomach, smiling up at the looming jock.

“I’m just going to stop talking to you now, because as luck would have it, we really are almost there.”

The mob of Mordor students stopped and the linebacker hauled the duo to their feet. They stared up at the school and the shadow it threw over them. The school rose taller than Eriador High, its structure more like a castle than the brick compound of two story buildings they were used to. Merry and Pippin could hardly believe that this archaic castle was literally across the park from their school, and what was with all the black anyway?

“Why do you think they need all that black, Pippin, do you think they’re, you know,” He lowered his voice, “ _goths_?”

The linebacker stared, shocked at their lack of intimidation, “Shut up, dweebs.”

“That’s rude,” they said in unison, continuing to stare at the school with mild disgust and incredulity.

“You reckon those towers are plastic?” Pippin nudged Merry.

“They look plastic,” Merry agreed.

The Mordor football team turned in unison and glared, “They’re not plastic!”

Pippin nodded understandingly, “Get that a lot, do you?”

“Probably because they’re tacky as hell.” Merry piped up matter-of-factly.

Their captor cuffed Merry over the head, “Shut up!”

“Come on then,” growled Uruk, ending the quarrel, “Let’s take them in.”

…

“But Eomer! We’re a team!”

Aragorn’s voice echoed out of the locker room, outside of which Gimli and Legolas sat.

“Teams run on teamwork!”

“Really,” gritted Eomer, “I couldn’t have _fucking_ guessed.”

Legolas sighed as he tuned out the shouting. He leaned his head back against the wall and looked at Gimli, “I’m sorry for earlier,” he began, “I shouldn’t have let him talk to you like that.” He sighed,

“It’s fine,” Gimli muttered, “I’m used to it. No big deal.”

Legolas cringed against the wall, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. _What the fuck? Who says something like that?_ He sighed and looked up at Gimli, who shrugged,

“Don’t look like that Legolas, it was nothing, come on.”

“Look like what, Gimli.”

Gimli looked uncomfortably at the ground, “Like…I dunno Legolas, like someone’s punched you in the face?”

“That’s not an emotion, Gimli.” Legolas stared straight ahead,

“Uh…well, you know what I mean…right?”

“No.”

“I’m aware of the concept of friendship, you abominable twat! But I’m not aware of why the _fuck_ you are still in my locker room!” Eomer shouted from the other side of the wall and Legolas sighed,

“Oh Gimli,” he stared down at his hands, “I was just worried. I just thought I would ask because if -- if you felt anywhere near as bad as I do…I--” he broke off and shuffled his feet against the corridor floor, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters.” Gimli muttered, “It matters that--” he broke off and they sat in a silence that soon turned awkward.

Legolas felt Gimli’s hand slide down his arm and rest on his wrist, his fingers playing with the hem of Legolas’ sleeve. Legolas looked up and smiled, his hair falling to obscure his face. The warmth of Gimli’s hand spread through his arm, hand tightening on Legolas’ wrist. Gimli looked away, a blush tinting his cheeks and muttered something under his breath.

“That’s not even a bribe, you idiot!” Eomer yelled, “I’m not even _fucking gay_!”

“Yeah!” Aragorn announced cheerfully, “But you’re not blind!”

“Not blind to your idiocy!”

“Must he always ruin everything?” Legolas sighed, as Gimli took his hand away self-consciously.

“Are you uh--are you worried about uhm…you know the…you know those two?” Gimli asked gruffly, his eyes on the floor,

“To a certain extent. It is not a large extent.” Legolas replied and Gimli nodded, the silence stretching between them.

…

“Sam…I’m sorry.” Frodo sighed as he drew his blankets closer around his knees. They’d stayed in the dorm through lunch, not bothering to attend fifth and sixth period, it was only engineering and physics anyway, Frodo had reasoned that they could catch up in the time it took for the class to grasp the next concept, so about an hour.

“For what?” asked Sam from his position on the floor,

“For you know…being…a bit of a…I’m just sorry.”

“Frodo, I don’t know what you’re apologising for?”

“It’s fine that you’re gay.” Frodo blurted,

“I know it’s fine.” Sam looked up at him in confusion,

“I just thought I--” Frodo stared at the blanket, “made you feel like it wasn’t.”

“That’s not--it’s okay Frodo, it’s not a big deal…” Sam shrugged,

“But I made it a big deal--”

“Frodo, stop.” Sam sighed, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Is it hard for you?”

“Is what _hard_ for me?” Sam snapped incredulously,

“I don’t--I’m sorry.”

“Just stop, it’s not something that we need to talk about. Come on, Frodo, get over it. I’m gay, is that okay with you?”

Frodo cringed, “Well…uh…yes I’m fine with your situation.”

Sam clenched his jaw, “Please stop.”

“I just don’t want to offend you.”

“Then don’t.” Sam sighed, “Can we just forget about it, please? Just forget I ever said anything okay? It doesn’t matter anyway, it shouldn’t matter.”

“Yeah,” nodded Frodo, “yeah okay, sorry.”

The silence grew tense between them and Sam spoke, “What about the photograph then?”

“I don’t know, Sam…I guess…” he raised his head and met Sam’s eyes for the first time that afternoon, “we’ll just have to do without them.”

“We?” Sam looked up at Frodo hopefully,

“You’re my best friend.”

“Still?”

“Of course, I trust you more than anyone, I couldn’t do it without you. Hell, I wouldn’t want to.” Frodo stood, untangling himself from the blankets and moving across to Sam, “Get up and give me a hug.”

Sam grinned and held out his hand to Frodo, who took it and helped him up.

“Sorry again.”

“Shut up.” Sam muttered against his shoulder.

…

“So which way do we go?” grinned Aragorn. They stood in the park, near the bench where they had sat at lunch, they had not succeeded in attaining Eomer’s help.

Legolas stared at Aragorn in disgust, “Oh I don’t know Aragorn,” he began sarcastically, “maybe, just _possibly_ , in the direction of the Mordor School for Boys, seeing as it was their football team that took them?”

“Okay smartypants.” Aragorn winked at Legolas, who glared, “That’s where we’ll go then.”

Legolas caught Gimli’s eye and they shared a look of understanding.

They moved in the direction of Mordor, scouring the ground for clues that the duo had passed through the area.

Soon they were nearing the school, able to see the black towers in distance. Legolas sighed as he stared at the ground, despairing at the lack of data.

All of a sudden, Aragorn stopped and Legolas ran into him. Aragorn grinned and winked and Legolas, once again, scowled.

“Did you find anything?” he asked coldly and Aragorn’s face fell as he inspected the item in his hand, “I think…” he began, “that they’ve been taken into Mordor.”

The the other two stared over Aragorn’s shoulder at the crumpled chip packet held between his fingers.

Lime flavoured.


	2. Intentional Fumble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither of us are really sure what happens in this chapter, so enjoy xx :)

They stood inside the courtyard of Mordor, looking up at the dark towers surrounding them.

“Hey Merry, I still think they’re plastic.” Pippin commented thoughtfully and Merry nodded in agreement. Before they could continue their conversation, a tall, bunky prefect stepped through a door close to the group.

“Got them, Uruk?”

“Sure have.” Uruk gestured toward the duo.

“Well, are we bringing them in?” The prefect asked,

“Now wait a minute,” a smaller member of the football team began, “we did most of the work. Why shouldn’t we bring them in? Why shouldn’t we get the credit?”

“Are you even in Isengard?” Uruk asked flatly, raising his eyebrows.

“I’ve been in the same house as you for three years!”

Merry nudged the linebacker, who glared at him, “Hey, so, uhm…” Merry grinned, “you got a pen?”

The linebacker looked down in disgust and Pippin giggled, “Why do you need a pen, Merry?”

“Well Pippin, sometimes a man needs to write some things down. Not than you would know of course.”

Pippin glared at Merry, “What are you saying?”

“Exactly what you think Pippin, your height’s not the shortest thing about you.”

“You wouldn’t know!” Pippin spat defensively,

“Wouldn’t I, Pippin, wouldn--”

Suddenly, a pen was thrust between them, “If you shut the hell up,” began the linebacker, “you can have this.”

They grinned up at him in unison and Merry grabbed the pen, Pippin passing over his student ID.

“Thanks Pippin.”

“Anything for you, Merry.”

The linebacker glared down at them in disgust as Merry began to scribble onto the ID card. The linebacker looked over Merry’s shoulder, trying to discern what was being written, but Merry covered it with his hand.

“It’s private! You can’t look! For our eyes only!” Exclaimed Merry,

“Yeah,” Pippin nodded, “it’s our will.”

The linebacker snapped.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What the f--”

He was cut off by the crunch of bone from across the courtyard. They turned their heads to see Uruk standing over the smaller football player, who was now on the ground.

“This is not a democracy,” He scanned the crowd of footballers,”anyone else have an opinion?”

“Yeah! Come at me bro!” Yelled the free safety, at whom Uruk looked disparagingly,

“Well, you asked for it.” Uruk shrugged before punching him in the face.

It was carnage.

The linebacker watched with interest while Merry and Pippin looked around the courtyard for a chance to sneak away. Just as they began to tiptoe toward the open gate, opposite to the one they had come in from, they were grabbed by the scruffs of their necks.

“You’re not going anywhere.” The linebacker growled.

Merry and Pippin stared up at towers and sighed in unison, “Yes, we are going nowhere, it’s true. We are going nowhere, nowhere in life. It’s a sad truth, but one we have to bear.” Pippin nodded sorrowfully,

“I still think they’re plastic.”

“You’re so right, Pippin, so right.”

The linebacker looked steadfastly away from them, letting go of the backs of their shirts and wiping his hands on his trousers.

“So how about that fight, eh Mr Prefect.” Pippin said, elbowing the linebacker.

“What about it, squirt?”

“Looks like a fun time, what with all the punching--”

“--and the kicking--”

“--and the blood! Oh look! There goes a tooth!”

“Amazing!”

“Beautiful!”

Merry and Pippin looked at each other, grinning,

“Stupendous!” They stared up at the linebacker,

“Why don’t you go and join in the fun?” Merry suggested,

“We swear we’ll stay here Mr Prefect sir.” Pippin said, gripping the linebacker’s hand.

The linebacker shook Pippin off in disgust, striding away from them, “You are, without a doubt, the most annoying things I have ever had to deal with.” He muttered.

Merry and Pippin looked towards the gate, “You think we’ll make it?”

“There’s only one way to find out, Pippin.” Merry grinned, dropping the student ID from between his fingers and running, Pippin following closely behind him.

...

“Oh my God, Galadriel!” Arwen exclaimed, twirling her hair around her fingers as she stretched her long legs out along her lilac bed. “He’s supposed to be here at six, sweetie, and it’s already five o’clock.”

Galadriel sighed and tossed her hair over her shoulder, “He’s not late yet?”

Arwen looked at Galadriel with condescension, “Sweetie, a good boyfriend always arrives at least an hour and a half early to surprise his one and only.” At this, she pointed to her face and smiled sweetly.

Galadriel shrugged and adjusted her capris, “So have you guys, you know…done it yet?”

“Sweetie I just don’t know how you keep a man if you think we haven’t done it yet.” She picked up a mirror and began to apply lipstick, “So how do you like, even teach? Daddy says you’re really good at it.”

Galadriel shrugged again, idly playing with one of the many ruffles on Arwen’s bed. “Well that’s an interesting question…” She trailed off.

Arwen batted her eyelashes, “Are you going to answer it sweetie?”

“Well, I mean, your dad got me the job, you know, after my mum--”

“You mean after daddy started having sex with your mum?”

Galadriel cringed. “Yes. After that.”

“You’re not even old enough to teach, are you? I guess it pays knowing the counselor.” She made a self-satisfied noise and smoothed the pleats of her cheerleading skirt. She smirked, “but then again, I’m not old enough to do some of the things that I’ve done.” She looked down at the bed on which they were sitting.

Galadriel let out a strangled yelp, immediately jumping off the bed and brushing down her capris, “Wait, you mean...you mean here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous sweetie,” Arwen rolled her eyes, “you don’t honestly think I’d allow this to be stained, do you?”

“Stained?” Galadriel raised her eyebrows.

“Sweetie, you’re so cute,” Arwen giggled, “the only girls that swallow are the girls that eat nothing else. I have enough trouble with my cheersquad, I don’t need to be one of them.” Arwen resumed her lipstick application, leaving Galadriel standing awkwardly, staring at Arwen.

“So...where do you?” She ventured.

Arwen smiled, “Does it really matter, sweetie?”

“I don’t know, does it?”

Arwen flicked her hair, looking bored, “Well, if my boyfriend insists on being this late,” She looked at her clock which read twenty past five, “I suppose it doesn’t.” She stood, strode over to her mirror, standing side on and putting a hand on her hip. “Do you think I’ve gained weight?”

There was a silence.

“No Arwen, you haven’t.” Galadriel sighed, looking at Arwen’s tiny waist. “So, are you excited for the big game tomorrow?”

“Well, it’s the reason I invited Aragorn over tonight, so I don’t know why he’s so late.” She pursed her lips and stared at the clock., “you know, stress relief.”

Galadriel looked at Arwen incredulously, “Stressed? I didn’t know Aragorn got stressed?”

“Well without football and me, he wouldn’t really have anything. I mean, without either one of us he wouldn’t even be at this school. Daddy is the counselor after all.”

“Really Arwen, I didn’t know.” Galadriel said with mock surprise.

“Oh sweetie, you crack me up.” Said Arwen, no laughter evident in her voice. She walked back over to her bed, patting the space next to her and looking up expectantly at Galadriel “sweetie, why don’t I paint your nails? They’re so long and I’m so jealous.”

“Sure, that’s okay, I guess.” Arwen waltzed over to her dressing table to procure the lime green nail polish.

“School colours for the game tomorrow!” She smiled before taking Galadriel’s hands, “You know,” she sighed, “sometimes I think I’m the only one who really understands Aragorn…”

…

Aragorn peered into the crumpled chip packet, “Do you think these are still okay to eat?”

Legolas sighed, “I think we should focus on the real issue here. Our friends,” he grimaced, “have been taken into Mordor.”

“Yeah I know but like, I mean, chips dude.”

Legolas looked at Aragorn like he was the most disappointing thing in the world.

“Okay, okay,” Aragorn consented, “we’ll focus on the little nerds, and then we can go and get some chips. Sound like a plan, Legolas?”

“Who is this we you speak of?” Legolas’ gaze was icy.

Aragorn gestured helplessly between the three of them, “Me and you and Gimli and well…” he looked at them pleadingly, “us!”

He received no support from either of them.

“So guys are we actually going to look for them?” Gimli spoke slowly, annoyance evident in his tone, “we’re missing dinner and it’s sloppy-joe night!”

The thought of food seemed to kick Aragorn out of his misery. He began to gesture wildly, “Come on! Come on men, this way!”

Legolas, looking unamused, grabbed him by the sleeve of his lime green and black letterman jacket. “Aragorn, that’s the way to our school, we need to go in the opposite direction.”

“Right you are Legolas, right you are.” Aragorn nodded knowingly.

Legolas sighed and began to walk towards the open gates of Mordor.

“I’m glad we’re such good friends again, Legolas.” Aragorn grinned, “I kinda miss having you around.”

Gimli scowled, but Aragorn soon turned to him.

“You know, Gimli, I can’t believe I never talked to you before.”

“We went to the same primary school…” Gimli muttered under his breath,

“And it was great, wasn’t it?”

“Not really.”

Aragorn seemed not to hear him, “You know what I think? I think we’re good enough friends that you don’t have to call me Strider in public anymore.” He grinned and gesture to the back of his letterman jacket, where Strider was printed in lime green lettering, “So you can ignore this. Just call me Aragorn.”

“What a privilege that is.” Legolas sighed as they walked through the gates of Mordor.

…

Arwen looked at Galadriel’s fingernails in satisfaction. The lime green sparkled in the soft light of her bedroom.

She stood and pulled her cheer uniform over head in one motion, revealing the frilly pair of underwear Galadriel had ever seen. Arwen smiled over her shoulder and pulled on a pair of pajama shorts almost as small as the underwear.

“I thought Aragorn was coming?”

“Well sweetie,” Arwen began, “at the rate he’s going,” she looked pointedly at the clock which read five to six, “there isn’t going to be time to chat.” She smiled again and pulled on a pink frilly babydoll, covered almost completely in bows and ribbons.

…

The courtyard of the Mordor School for Boys was deserted, evidence of a scuffle clear from the dust that still hung in the air. In the corner of the courtyard, near the opposite gate to the one they were standing in, was a small piece of plastic.

Legolas stared at it, trying to decipher the words.

“Over there,” he pointed, “it’s Perrigrin Took’s  school ID.” He began to walk towards it as Gimli stared at him,

“Legolas…” Gimli began, “how can you see that?”

The blond shrugged, “Hmm? Can’t you see the words?”

“No…”

Legolas ignored him and picked up the card.

He stared at it, “They’re taking the sophomores to Isengard.”

“Isengard?” asked Aragorn, staring at Legolas in bewilderment,

“Isengard.” Legolas concurred.

“It’s one of the houses at Mordor,” Gimli explained, “even I know that.”

“Well I can’t seem to spot them…” Aragorn began knowingly, looking around the courtyard.

Legolas looked out the gate and across the park, scanning the grass, and tapping Gimli lightly on the shoulder, “That way,” he stated, “I can still see them.”

“How?” Gimli raised an eyebrow,

“I have near perfect vision, always have. I’ll never need glasses.” He shrugged elegantly, “I suppose they wouldn’t suit me.”

“I’m sure they would…” Gimli muttered, looking away,

“What was that, Gimli?” Legolas asked with a smile,

“Nothing…” he grumbled, blushing.

“Guys, I think I see some footprints over here!” Aragorn called excitedly from the other side of the courtyard.

Legolas sighed and turned towards the quarterback, “Aragorn we can see them from here.”

“You can see them…” Gimli clarified,

“No guys I think they’re long gone…” Aragorn beckoned them over, pointing at the footprints, “Okay listen,” he began when they’d grudging walked over, “in primary school right,” Gimli shook his head in dismay, “I was a boy scout…” Gimli’s head dropped to his hands, “and I don’t mean to brag…but I was really good at tracking. I got my badge before anyone else!” He smiled proudly up at them from his position, crouching in the dirt.

Legolas sighed, “Aragorn I don’t really think--”

Aragorn held up a hand, inspecting the footprints and frowning, “Shhh…don’t disturb daddy while he’s working.”

“Get up, we’re losing them.” Legolas snapped, “Unlike you, I actually would like the photograph destroyed…I know you don’t think it’s a big deal, but for me…it’s a big deal!”

“This is some of the hardest tracking I’ve ever had to do…” Aragorn muttered perplexed, “and I’m the best, I mean, back in the day--”

“Aragorn, you are seventeen.” Legolas gritted,

“they used to call me Strider…the Ranger. Wow…” he grinned at the footprints in the dirt, “those were the days…don’t you remember, Gimli?”

“Sadly, yes.” Gimli grunted.

“Man…the good old days…” Aragorn muttered, clutching a handful of dirt as he stood, “By the consistency of this soil,” he held up a handful that looked more like dust and rocks, “I can conclude that they were, in fact, here.”

Legolas huffed an irritated sigh, “You’re a genius.”

Aragorn winked, then turned to Gimli, “So in primary school…which one were you?”

Gimli glared and shook his head, turning towards the gate, “We should go find them…”

“I am finding them, Gimli!” he looked up at Legolas for support, “Tell him, Legolas! Tell him how good I am.”

“I’m sorry to break this to you, Aragorn,” Legolas began flatly, “but in all my time knowing you, I’ve never seen you track a single thing. Ever.”

“But remember that time--”

“What time?” Legolas cut him off,

“When we were in the--”

“Aragorn,” Legolas sighed, “there were no times.”

…

Dark was falling slowly over the grass as Merry and Pippin made their way back towards Eriador High.

“Can I just use your ID next time we need something?” Pippin asked as he almost tripped over a large rock,

“That’s what we do anyway.”

Pippin nodded, “True…” he conceded, “do you think they’re worried?”

“About us?” Merry shrugged, “Nah…they’ve got bigger things to worry about and besides, I’m sure we can find our way back on our own.”

They walked in silence for a while, son reaching the borders of the school grounds. They could just make out the flowerbeds in the dark and walked between them towards the dark stillness of the football with its manicured grass and white posts.

They were so focussed on the lights of the school in the distance that they didn’t notice when someone tall and thin and very angry stepped out in front of them.

“What are you scallywags doing in my flowerbeds?” A voice rumbled, and Pippin jumped immediately into Merry’s arms, who barely managed to catch him,

“It’s talking, Merry, the tree is talking!”

“That’s not a tree Pippin…it’s a groundskeeper.”

“Well I’m not far then, am I?”

The figure sighed, “Are you those boys who poured the flour into the pond the other day?”

“That’s horrible!” Exclaimed Merry, putting Pippin gently onto the ground, “What a travesty--”

“--what a crime!” Pippin finished for him,

“Crime indeed,” growled the groundskeeper, “have those pansies been squashed.”

“Don’t see any pansies around here? Do you Merry?” Pippin asked cheerfully.

The groundskeeper pointed to Pippin’s feet, around which pansies lay, crushed and wilted.

“That wasn’t me…” Pippin nodded convincingly, “yeah…it was like this when we got here, wasn’t it Merry.”

“He’s right about that Mr Groundskeeper, sir,” Merry chimed in, “and he’s not right about much.”

“Well what you’re sayin’ is not what I’m seein’,” the groundskeeper muttered, “the only question is what we should do with you.”

“We?” they asked in unison,

“Yes,” the groundskeeper nodded, “there is most certainly a we, and I can tell you, they most certainly are not going to be happy about the state of the pansies.”

“But Mr Gardener Groundskeeper, sir, we have to go back for dinner!” Pippin looked horrified at the thought of no sloppy-joes,

“Dinner’s over son, and there aint gunna be no dinner where you’re going.” He growled,

“But that’s horrible!” Merry exclaimed, “What a travesty--”

“--what a crime!” Pippin finished for him,

The groundskeeper glared.

“It really doesn’t line up with the school values.” Merry pointed out,

“Find me one person that cares about the school values.”

“You’ve got two right here, sir!” Pippin exclaimed, gesturing between them,

“You don’t count, you’re coming with me.”

For the second time that day, Merry and Pippin found themselves being unceremoniously dragged across the ground by the backs of their shirts.

…

“We could still run after them?” Gimli suggested, staring off across the darkening park,

“That would be fun,” Aragorn nodded, “I know that Legolas has got a lot of stamina.”

Gimli and Legolas stared at him, and Aragorn, unaware, began to walk towards the gate.

“You coming, or what?”

“Aragorn, could you please not mention things such as this in public--”

“Want me say them in private then?” Aragorn winked,

“Anywhere.”

Gimli stared at the ground.

“Come on, Legoas, it was so much fun!” Aragorn smiled up at him winningly,

“Was, Aragorn, was.”

Aragorn scowled, “Seriously? You’re gunna do that? What’s your problem man? What do you want?”

“I want you admit that what you did was wrong.” Legolas snapped, turning to Aragorn,

“I didn’t do anything! You didn’t even want to--” Aragorn broke off and sighed, “Look…just forget it, I’m sorry.” He stared the ground, kicking up the dust of the courtyard with his feet, “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough.”

“You know damn well it’s not about that.” Legolas clenched his jaw,

“It’s not my fault you’re scared, you know…”

“I’m. Not. Scared.”

“Yes you are,” Aragorn shrugged, “you’ve been scared your whole life.”

“You know what, fuck you. How dare you say that to me you insufferable moron, how would you know anything about this?” Legolas folded his arms close to his chest and glared at the shuffling Aragorn,

“I’m not a moron. Don’t call me that. You always call me that. I’m not--” he broke off, “I’m not stupid.”

Legolas seemed to deflate slightly, and opened his mouth to speak, but Gimli coughed, drawing the attention of the pair.

“This isn’t working.” He stated flatly, “We need to find your stand in captain.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last thing, we're both kinda on opposite sides of the world right now, but never fear, we won't leave any of you hanging :)


	3. Pass Protection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually so excited about this chapter because we've had some of the bits planned since we decided to do this back in February. Enjoy!

“I’m sorry.”

Gimli and Aragorn had been walking in front of a sulking Legolas, Eriador High looming closer when Legolas had grabbed Aragorn’s arm and pulled him forward, ahead of Gimli.

“What for?” Aragorn grinned.

Legolas ignored him and continued, “You’re not stupid, Aragorn.”

“Uhm, Legolas? He’s failing standard English.” Gimli muttered from behind. Legolas shot him a scathing look and continued once again, putting a tentative arm around Aragorn’s shoulders.

“Grades aside, you’re not stupid.” He reiterated.

Aragorn grinned again, pulling Legolas into a tight hug, leaving Gimli staring steadfastly at the ground. Aragorn squeezed Legolas, “Thanks!” he exclaimed, voice muffled by Legolas’ lime green blazer. Legolas nodded against him and brought his other arm up to embrace Aragorn.

Gimli coughed and raised his eyebrows, “Didn’t you ahh…mention that you were going to see your _girlfriend_ tonight?” He looked pointedly at Legolas who coughed, embarrassed and backed away from Aragorn, who didn’t seem worried.

“She’ll understand, the team’s very important and so’s the Photograph Destruction Squad.” He nodded encouragingly at the other two boys, who stared back at him incredulously, although Legolas looked slightly pleased. “We’ve gotta go find Eomer, we don’t have a choice now that...” he paused, looking down, “now that Boromir’s gone, we don’t have anyone else.” his voice was harsh and he walked on ahead.

Legolas looked apologetically at Gimli, “I didn’t say what I wanted to say I--”

“So what did you wanna say, Legolas?” Gimli snapped, “What’s so important?”

“You wouldn’t understand, you don’t know him.”

“And _you_ do? That’s not what you’ve been telling me.” Gimli stopped walking and crossed his arms.

“It doesn’t matter now, I just have to talk to him.” Legolas strode away, leaving Gimli in the dark. “Aragorn, wait!” he called, and Aragorn’s brisk pace slowed to accommodate for Legolas’ long stride.

“What is it, Legolas?” Aragorn’s tone was, once again, cheerful.

“Maybe it’s not all your fault, but I’m not going to say it was all mine either.”

Aragorn shrugged, “Well you can’t say I didn’t try.”

Legolas sighed, defeated, “I know I can’t, and I don’t blame you anymore, Aragorn.”

Aragorn didn’t look at him, “Yes you do. Don’t say that to me if you don’t mean it.” He lengthened his stride, leaving Legolas behind him.

…

The Rohan common room door was worse than the Rivendell one. It was painted the same shade of lime green as everything else in the school, the stylised outline of a galloping horse, the word ‘Rohan’ emblazoned on its back in curling font adorned the door beneath a peep-hole. It was Aragorn who knocked, his earlier frustration at Legolas seeming to have disappeared.

A skinny freshman opened the door marginally, slipped through the crack and slammed it shut again.

“What do you want?” He folded his arms and leaned against the door handle.

“We’re looking for Eomer.” Legolas stated and the boy raised his eyebrows,

“Are you sure you’re looking for Eomer? I wouldn’t look for Eomer right now. In fact, I’d never go looking for Eomer. It’s like they say; never trouble trouble ‘til trouble troubles you.” He winked at Aragorn, who nodded in amazement. Legolas rolled his eyes,

“We are, in fact, looking for Eomer.” He waved his hand at the freshman, “So go on, go and get him.”

The boy stood his ground, “You’re gunna have to tell me how you know him before I do anything for you.”

“He’s our captain!” Aragorn piped.

“No, he’s _my_ captain,” the boy nodded patronisingly at Aragorn, “you, on the other hand, don’t have a captain. Not anymore, not since he went and got himself expell--”

He was cut off when Legolas shoved him unceremoniously against the lime green door by his collar. He leant in close to the freshman’s face and whispered, “Listen here you self-righteous twat, Eomer is our stand in captain for football team. So if you please, go and get him. Now.”

The boy rolled his eyes, un-intimidated, “Fine, but it’s your loss, he’s pretty pissed right now, but then again, he’s always pissed.”

Legolas let the boy go with a frustrated noise and Aragorn waved as he turned to walk back into Rohan.

“I like that kid,” muttered Aragorn, staring at the now closed door, “he’s a good kid.”

Legolas sighed, “Shut up and wait.”

They waited in awkward silence for perhaps five minutes before they heard footsteps and voices in the hall behind the closed door accompanied by a dragging sound.

“Why would you think for one _fucking_ minute that I’d want to see Legolas Greenleaf, his dog and _fucking Strider._ ” Eomer’s voice was very distinctive. Aragorn grinned excitedly and pointed at himself, “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Eomer continued, “You’re supposed to be security! You are certainly not securing me, I don’t feel fucking _secure_.”

“To be honest, Eomer,” they heard the boy’s voice, “have you seen me? I’m a freshman. Does it look like I can be security?”

“I don’t care what you fucking look like,” Eomer spat, “you have a job to do regardless, one that you are not doing.”

They heard the boy’s sigh just before the door handle twisted open to reveal a fuming Eomer dragging the freshman along the ground by the back of his blazer. Eomer glared at the trio.

“What is it that you could _possibly_ want now?”

The boy shrugged, “I tried to warn you.”

“Shut up, Rohirrim,” Eomer growled, “this isn’t about you.”

“Never is.” The boy sighed disparagingly from his position on the ground.

“We’re here because we need your help, Eomer.” Legolas began,

“Can you possibly take no for an answer?” Eomer glared, “I know it’s in your genes to be a pushy little shit, Greenleaf, but could you for once shut up and _leave_?” He stared pointedly and Gimli and Aragorn, “And would you be kind enough to take your dog and underage abomination with you? I do not want to see you until we have training. That’s at five tomorrow morning by the way, and don’t you dare be _fucking_ late.”

Legolas clenched his fists and stepped into Eomer personal space, “You can’t talk about Gimli like that.” He began, voice low, “Do it again and you’ll be looking for a new wide receiver.”

The boy muffled a giggle at Legolas’ position and Eomer kicked him before glaring right back, “Mouth off to me like that again and I’ll definitely be looking for a new wide receiver.”

“Can you help us, though?” asked Aragorn cheerfully,

Eomer huffed a half sigh, half cough, “At this point,” he snapped, “I suppose you would waste my time _less_ if I actually helped you. Never again.” He muttered under his breath. The boy stood up, supporting himself on Eomer’s arm. Eomer glared and shook him off.

“Can I go now?” The boy asked, “I have stuff to do too, you know.”

“Like what?” Eomer snapped, “What could you possibly have to do at eight thirty at night, as a freshman?”

“I dunno,” the boy shrugged, “I was scheduled to be beaten up by some senior after dinner…he’s kinda late actually…rude to be honest. And I’ve gotta prepare myself mentally and physically for that.” He shrugged again, “The usual stuff.”

Aragorn nodded understandingly, “Ah, I remember the days…”

“Because you were beaten up…so much.” Legolas commented dryly,

“Stop flirting and follow me.” Eomer glared, turning and walking into Rohan, “You’ll see why I can’t help you.”

They followed Eomer into the hall in relative quiet, staring up at the pictures of horses that lined the walls.

“So like…what’s with the horses?” asked Aragorn, staring up at a particularly large frame that contained a bucking Friesian.

“Ignore the horse pictures. We all do.” Eomer, for once, sounded defeated.

They continued to walk down the tasteless lime green hall until they reached another horse encrusted door, which Eomer opened with a sigh.

The room they entered was adorned with red and black. Red and black couches and red and black carpets and red and black walls.

“Wow…” Aragorn breathed, “This is place, it’s hectic…am I right?” He grinned around at his companions, who stared in horror. The boy sighed and shook his head before slowly lifting his hand so as not to leave Aragorn hanging.

“He’s through this way.” Eomer gestured for them to follow him through yet another door.

The head of Rohan sat swaying on a lounge in his study, empty tea cups littered the floor, while more half empty cups sat along the lounge. The room was coated in the cloying odour of anise, Aragorn coughed immediately on entering, “Hey! Smells like that lime green punch I had at that party that one time…that was a great party…”

Legolas narrowed his eyes at the cups of tea, “That wasn’t punch, Aragorn…”

“Mr Theoden,” began Eomer, “you have visitors, sir.”

Theoden heaved a breathy groan and his head slumped onto his chest.

Eomer sighed, walking over his head of house and shaking him. Theoden’s eyes snapped open.

“Hey sir!” Aragorn began, “we’re just here to ask you--”

“Seven years of detention…” Theoden muttered, “don’t walk in my living room with your shoes on.” He groaned again, “This is a living room, meant for living…” he slurred.

“My point being,” Eomer sighed, “he can’t help you.”

“But maybe we can help him.” Legolas stared pointedly at the cups of tea, “Can you smell the anise?”

Eomer opened his mouth to retort but at that moment the door swung open and a greasy haired man, _Prac Teacher Wormtongue_ printed on his lime green badge, walked in.

“Who are you?” He barked, limping closer,

“Hey Mr Wormtongue, how’s it going! We’re just here to talk to Mr Theoden!” Aragorn proclaimed,

Wormtongue scowled, a cup of tea clutched in his hands, “Can’t you see you’re upsetting him?” He gestured to the sleeping Theoden.

Legolas raised an eyebrow and in one swift motion, grabbed the cup of tea from between Wormtongue’s fingers and took a whiff. He nudged Aragorn, “Smell familiar.”

“Yeah like that punch!”

“And what happened when you drank that...uh… _punch_?”

Aragorn opened his mouth to reply but Wormtongue was quicker, “You need to leave. Now.”

Aragorn turned sadly toward the door and bumped into a girl who’d just come through it.

“Hi Aragorn!” She blushed, covering her face with her hands.

Legolas sighed.

“Not now, Eowyn.” Eomer said dejectedly.

“But I was thinking that Aragorn might want to go for coffee?”

“I don’t think he wants to go for coffee, Eowyn. He doesn’t know who you are.”

“So uhm, Legolas? Gimli? We were just going to train, you know...football?” Aragorn stuttered, indicating the window, outside of which the sky was black.

Eowyn looked at him, excitement still evident in her features, “But he’s back you know. I was just outside and he wants to see you.”

“He?” the question echoed around the room.

“Gandalf, he’s back, back from long hesrt tlef--” she coughed the words, “I mean, long service leave.” She shot a winning smile at Aragorn and Legolas, who looked mildly repulsed. “Come with me! Come with me and see!” She grabbed Aragorn’s hand and pulled him down the equine themed halls, forcing the others to follow.

…

“We didn’t step on your pansies you know!” Merry informed a room full of groundskeepers, all of whom were looking at him sceptically.

“Sure you didn’t, son.” Muttered the groundskeeper who dragged them there in the first place, “and I didn’t want to be a footballer when I was your age. But now I’m a groundskeeper, and you still have pansies on your shoes.”

“That’s their pattern!” Pippin tried to explain.

The crowd of groundskeepers ignored him, “So what should we do with him, Treebeard?” Another of the tall men asked slowly, stepping forward.

“We should take them to Saruman, them’s the rules. All usurpers and troublemakers must report to Mr Saruman for punishment.” He reeled off robotically, causing Merry and Pippin to look at each other in terror. “You know the rules too, Quickbeam.”

Quickbeam narrowed his eyes, “Them’s the rules, yes.” He nodded, “But I’m not much a fan of Mr Saruman. Ever since he cut the rose budget, well, I’ve just not known what to do with myself.”

“Yeah! Saruman really loves making budget cuts!” Merry nodded sagely, “That’s all he loves, budget cuts and budget milk. Also Principal Sauron, but that’s just what I think.” He winked and nudged Pippin,

“What we think.” Pippin agreed, nodding at the groundskeepers.

“So what we have here,” Merry began,

“Is a situation in which we don’t like Mr Saruman,” Pippin continued,

“And you don’t like Mr Saruman,” Merry added,

“So what we suggest,” Pippin grinned, looking at Merry,

“Is that we do something about Mr Saruman.” They finished in unison.

“I’m listening.” Quickbeam nodded, ignoring Treebeard’s look of anguish.

“They stepped on our pansies, Quickbeam!”

“The rose budget’s been cut, Treebeard. What’s next? Maybe next week there won’t be any pansies to step on.” He retorted sadly.

A third groundskeeper piped up from the corner of the room, “That is a point, landscaping hardly gets any attention anymore.”

“You’re right, Finglas.” Quickbeam nodded, “Now is the time.”

“So it’s settled then,” Merry and Pippin smiled up at the now interested crowd of gardeners. “What do you suggest?”

…

A white Harley Davidson stood in the carpark of Eriador High, skidmarks spanning from behind it, _Shadowfax_ engraved on the side in silver lettering.

“Miss me?” Asked the man on the bike.

“Sweet ride, Gandalf.” Aragorn stared at the leather-clad man on the bike. Gandalf took off his helmet and nodded.

“Sweet ride indeed, Aragorn, Son of Isildur.”

Legolas looked at them disparagingly, “So what is it that you wanted, Mr Gandalf?”

“Heard you were having a little trouble up in Rohan, so naturally, I came so help you out.”

“Uh, sir? That just happened about five minutes ago?” Ventured Gimli.

“Silence, Gimli, Son of Gloin.” He raised a leather-clad hand to Gimli’s face and turned on Legolas, “So tell me, Mr Greenleaf, which of my services do you require?”

Legolas opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Aragorn,

“So how’d you do it?” He asked, grinning.

“It is a thrilling tale, and one I will share with you on our journey.” Gandalf then turned toward the buildings of Eriador High, “I shall lead the way.”

Eowyn and Aragorn filed behind Gandalf, while Eomer, Gimli and Legolas shared looks of apprehension.

…

The group followed Gandalf into the gaudy hallway of the Rohan common room, Legolas pushed through the crown until he got to Gandalf,

“So how did you do it?” He questioned, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Ah Legolas, I know how to pull strings just as well as you do.” He smiled, tapping his nose.

“You’re the person most well-equipped to help us. I have reason to believe that the head of Rohan house is being drugged and I don’t have the authority to report it, considering who I believe the perpetrator to be and considering who hired him. You and I both know all the prac teachers come from Saruman.” He and Gandalf shared a cold look and Gandalf nodded, quickening his pace.

“I believe then, that I am the right person to help. Lucky I came back early.” He smiled before opening the door into Theoden’s study.

Wormtongue was leaning close to Theoden, teacup in hand, hovering in front of the head of Rohan’s slackened mouth.

Gandalf sniffed the air and smiled, “Is that absinthe I smell in the air, young Mr Wormtongue?” He nodded, “Ah, I remember it well from the days of my youth.” He looked off into the distance, “In any case, unhand the teacup.” Gandalf’s voice rose.

Wormtongue scowled and clutched the teacup tighter, “You have no power here.”

“You bet your greasy hair I do.” At this, Gandalf unzipped his leather jacket to reveal a starched white shirt with a lime green badge pinned to the chest, on which was printed, _Gandalf: Head of Discipline_.

Wormtongue recoiled in horror, dropping the teacup, its contents staining the image of a handsome horse that was woven into the carpet.

“I’m head of discipline and I’m firing your arse!” Roared Gandalf as Wormtongue scurried away from the group.

…

“Well, we have to start somewhere.” Sam began logically.

“Where Sam? Where are we supposed to start? We don’t know what to do, we don’t know where to go and we have everyone relying on us.” Frodo snapped.

“But we have the code?” Sam offered tentatively, looking over at Frodo, who was sitting in the corner of their dorm, mechanically ripping up his recently finished calculus homework with a blank look on his face. “Don’t do that, Frodo.” Sam sighed.

“Why not? I can just do it again in five minutes. That’s not the problem here. And the code isn’t really going to help since we don’t actually know where to put it!” Frodo had stood up and was yelling, face red, hands tearing at his hair. “I can’t do this, Sam! I just can’t do it!”

“But _we_ can do it, can’t we?” Sam asked, walking over to Frodo and putting his hand on Frodo’s quivering shoulder. “You need to calm down, Frodo. Maybe we can do some more calculus together, that usually helps.”

Frodo turned around, shaking Sam’s hand off, “Sam, this is one of those times when calculus isn’t going to help!”

Sam stared dejectedly at the floor at a loss for what to say to his friend. Frodo flopped onto the ground, head hidden in his clenched fists.

“I can’t do this with them, Sam,” Frodo sighed, “but I can’t do it without them either.”

Sam was about to reply, when the door creaked open, a cleaning trolley the first thing they saw. the next thing they saw was the janitor, who pushed the trolley into the dorm, eyes fixed on Frodo.

“Master Baggins,” Gollum whispered, “I heard you. And I know how to destroy it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf tho.  
> As always, we hope you enjoyed it and feel free to leave us a comment, we really love getting them and it's great fun to talk


	4. Hidden Yardage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 1000 words longer. Be happy. :D

Soft sunlight streamed through the lime green curtains and onto Frodo’s angelic face, the chirping of birds pulling him out of his much needed slumber. He stretched, arching his back and dispelling the stress of the night before opening his eyes…only to scream.

“Rise and shine, Master Baggins,” Gollum, the janitor announced cheerfully, his face only inches from Frodo’s.

“What the hell!” yelled Frodo, heaving up his blankets and reaching a hand up to poke the mattress above him, only to receive a particularly loud snore from the still sleeping Sam. “What the hell.” He sighed, pushing Gollum off him and standing, for the first time breathing in the smell of methylated spirits that now drenched the room. Frodo reached behind him and grasped Sam’s blankets, flinging them to the other side of the sun-filled dorm. 

“Wassamatter?” grumbled Sam, rolling over to face the wall.

“Sam, get up!” Frodo shook the entire bunk, causing a loud metallic rattle to cut through the stillness of the morning. Sam lifted his head, staring at Frodo, bleary-eyed and grunted quizzically.

“The sounds, Master Baggins,” Gollum began, “the noise it makes,” he stared at Sam accusingly from his position on the floor, “it hurts the ears.”

Sam and Frodo looked at each other, eyebrows raised. “Sure,” Frodo nodded before addressing Sam, “We have work to do. Get up.”

…

The sun hadn’t yet lit the football field when Eomer began to yell.

“You know, I don’t  enjoy being captain. I have far better things to do that don’t involve running around on a football field, or even, standing in the middle of one having to  instruct  people to run around on an oval that they could themselves run around without much mental effort.” He glared at Aragorn, who sat cross-legged at his feet, a couple of paces in front of the rest of the team who stood, half asleep. “Yet here I am, forced, yet again into civic duty by the incompetence of the masses who have, even with my instructions, and over twelve hours at their disposal, not managed to locate our captain.” He stared around at the football team, hands compulsively drumming against his thighs, “So can someone,  anyone , fucking  anyone , be kind enough to fucking enlighten me as to the whereabouts of  fucking Faramir .”

Aragorn, still smiling, shrugged, “Mr Captain Eomer Sir, is that kid from yesterday coming? I liked that kid, is he coming to training? I feel like he’s already part of the team,” He looked around at the team behind him, nodding enthusiastically and not noticing their blank looks. Eomer sighed, Legolas dropped his head into his hands.

“As usual, Aragorn, this question deserves no answer. Now if you will  kindly  stand and  kindly  begin to fucking run around the fucking oval as I have fucking instructed,” He paused and grinned at the crowd through gritted teeth, “that would be just fan-fucking-tastic.” When the bleary-eyed teenage boys didn’t respond, a pulsing vein became visible on his forehead and he clapped them on encouragingly, “Well, off you go!”

Legolas grabbed the still sitting Aragorn, hauling him to his feet, “Let’s go,” he muttered into Aragorn’s ear, “before he explodes.”

“NO FLIRTING ON MY FOOTBALL FIELD!” came Eomer’s scream from behind them.

“There it is.” Grinned Legolas, still pulling Aragorn toward the mob of jogging footballers.

Legolas was almost bowled over by Aragorn’s embrace, “Legolas! Legolas you’re smiling!” Aragorn rained kisses on the disgruntled Legolas’ face, “Does this mean you like me again? Can we be friends?” 

Legolas attempted to tune out Aragorn’s incessant babble by turning his head away, only to see a lone figure leaning on the fence. He narrowed his eyes, trying to get a closer look only to notice the shoulder length red hair. His stomach dropped and he swallowed hard. “Fuck.”

“What the fuck did I just say?” Eomer’s voice was far too close for comfort, “I couldn’t give the smallest of shits who you fuck off the field. Your personal life is clearly disgusting and of no interest to me. But you certainly won’t be fucking  anyone on my field.” He grabbed Aragorn by the collar, pulling him away from the unresponsive Legolas and dumping him unceremoniously onto the damp ground. “Get the fuck up, and fucking run, quarterback. Fucking run.”

…

“So what we’re  gunna do,” Pippin began, standing on a wooden table in the middle of the groundskeepers’ shack, a glass bottle held in his hand as he swayed dangerously, “is, we’re gunna, uhm, we’re gunna,” he cleared his throat, “we’re gunna sneak in. To Sar-sar’s office. Yeah.” He finished, nodding sagely.

“S’what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Am I right, ladies?” Merry answered, craning his neck to look at the bemused groundskeepers, who shuffled nervously.

“There you are, Merry! Come! Come!” Pippin exclaimed with glee and extended a hand toward the boy sitting in front of him, helping him onto the table. 

Pippin opened his mouth to resume speaking, but seemed to think better of it, raising his hand into the air as if he’d just had a brilliant idea. “You know what this meeting needs?” He called to the groundskeepers, “Do you know what this meeting  needs , ladies?” The groundskeepers stared at him in confusion.

“You heard the man, ladies,” Merry nodded around the silent room, “snacks!”

“And what kinda snacks do we need, Merry?”

“Chips!”

“And what kinda chips do we need, Merry?”

Merry and Pippin looked at each other, then out at their audience, “Lime flavoured.” they finished in unison.

…

Out in the hall, Sam glared at Gollum, eyes streaming from the chemical fumes that seemed to surround the janitor, “So what the fuck are we supposed to do?” He snapped. Frodo placed a cautionary hand onto Sam’s shoulder and smiled meekly at Gollum,

“So, uhm, what do we do, Mr Janito-- err, Gollum-- err, Mr-- err, Janitor-- err…Sir? No, err…yeah.” 

“Oh, we know how to destroy it alright, Master Baggins.” Gollum nodded, stroking a bottle of lime green window cleaner lovingly.

Sam let out a sigh of derision and leaned against the wall, loudly unwrapping a muesli bar. Frodo shot him a scathing look and turned back to Gollum, “So how do we destroy it?” Frodo’s voice was kind.

“All in good time, Master Baggins. You just continue on with your little plans and when the times be right, we will tell Master, but in the meantime, Master does as Master wishes.” Gollum heaved a frail shrug, and replaced the lurid bottle of window cleaner into his cart.

“Uhm, okay Gollum…” Began Frodo apprehensively, “We were just going to go and see if Principal Sauron is in his office…to you know…get on the database from there?”

“Master does as Master wishes.”

“Uh, okay then. Let’s go then.”

Sam shot them both a disturbed look and bit into his muesli bar.

…

“One more fucking lap!” yelled Eomer from the sidelines at the football team, whose feet had begun to drag, “If I wanted to watch a bunch of twelve year old girls complain about their problems, I would go the counselor's office on the Friday afternoon before prom. I know you’ve all got the right appendages, and though some of them may be less than satisfactory, they still exist -- so act like it!”

Legolas sighed as he continued to jog, “I didn’t get up at four to straighten my hair for this.”

Aragorn quirked an eyebrow, “But your hair’s naturally straight, you know, like, I’ve seen it after you’ve had a shower, and in the shower, and in the morning, and at night…man I’ve seen your hair a lot. It’s nice. I like it, it’s really long, and like, that kinda whitish blond? And straight man, I know it’s straight! It’s straight.”

“Not straight enough.” muttered Legolas through gritted teeth.

“What was that, Greenleaf?” Eomer’s shriek pierced the air, “More and more, Legolas, I am unwillingly exposed to the details of your personal life. No one here wants to know, nor needs to know the state of your hair after your numerous illicit homosexual activities.”

“I’m not gay!”

The whole team stopped dead.

Legolas sighed.

“Did I fucking tell you to stop running?”

Again, Legolas sighed and adjusted his, already frizzing in the mist. He heard Aragorn mutter from beside him while staring at the white strands.

“It’s straight...I know it’s straight…”

Legolas contained yet another sigh and stared at him incredulously before grabbing him.

“Come on, we have another lap.”

But before Legolas could begin to run, a shaft of sunlight split the clouds, catching for a moment, on the glitter in the pom-poms of Arwen Undomiel and blinding the football team. When the brilliance cleared, she was revealed to be standing, hand on her hip sporting her usual sickly-sweet murderous glare, her cheersquad standing in a perfect V formation behind her. Their hips stuck out in unison, a slow swing causing the pleats of their lime green and black miniskirts to swish seductively. They stopped abruptly in front on Aragorn and Legolas.

“Sweetie.” Her tone was displeased, “I see you have time for this, but you didn’t seem to have time for me last night.” She looked deliberately away and lowered her lashes in faux sadness.

“But babe,” Aragorn began seriously, taking a moment to check her out, “you understand that, as a man in this society, I, as a man have many duties with the Photograph Destruction Squad, you know?” He nodded at Legolas and placed a hand lightly on Arwen’s bare shoulder and smiled, “It’s okay though babe, I was with Legolas.”

“Yes, sweetie. Was. Past tense. Now you’re with me, so you should act like it if you want it to stay that way.”

A blonde girl from behind Arwen looked up from filing her nails to  ooohh at Aragorn, who remained, as always, oblivious.

“Look babe--” Aragorn began, but was cut off when Eomer put a forceful hand on his shoulder, and leaned in toward his ear.

“When I say  run another lap , the fuck did you think I meant. Did you think it meant to flirt with your boyfriend?” he gestured to a disgruntled Legolas, who had the good sense to stare at the ground, “Or did you think it meant to fight with your girlfriend?” He gestured to Arwen, who gave a pseudo-wave, smiling, “Your sexuality crisis can wait for another time altogether.” He paused in order to breathe in deeply. “While you still have another half lap to run, I am, out of the  goodness of my own heart , going to let you go and stretch. Now off you go, stretch, quarterback.  Fucking stretch .”

“Bye sweetie!” Arwen leaned into Aragorn, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him into a passionate kiss.

Eomer and Legolas stared at each other, equal looks of repulsion painted on their faces. Arwen finally released Aragorn from her grip and smiled at Legolas, “See you later, sweetie.” She turned, swishing her hips and winking as she walked to the side of the football field.

Aragorn grinned fuzzily and looked at Legolas, “That was hot.” He lifted a hand, “Am I right?” his voice was solemn.

Rohirrim -- who had made his way from the school to the football field while the others were occupied -- walked past, a bottle of lime green Gatorade and a towel clutched to his chest. He sighed and lifted his hand to meet Aragorn’s in midair. 

“The kid’s back!” 

Rohirrim ignored Aragorn, striding over to Eomer and handing him the towel, unscrewing the lid of the Gatorade and taking a sip before handing to Eomer. “It’s clean.” He nodded clinically, with slight relief.

“A tea. Decaf is best.” Eomer nodded, dismissing the drink,  “you know how jumpy and stressed out caffeine makes me.” His eye twitched and Rohirrim raised his eyebrows. Eomer gritted his teeth. “Just do it.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Rohirrim’s quick military salute signaled his departure.

…

Arwen Undomiel raised her eyebrows at Gimli, “Who are you?” she pursed her gloss covered lips, “Bit rough, aren’t you? Don’t belong here, do you.” She pouted, “So who are you here for, little man?”

“I’ve as much right to be here as you do.” Gimli scowled to a chorus of giggles from the cheerleaders behind Arwen.

“He’s so cute.”

“Isn’t he just quaint?”

“So fetch.”

“In his little woodshop?”

“OMG.”

“With the right hair cut--”

“Not this one”

“Yeah, I know, Katie.”

“Shut up Jessica.”

“Okay but like isn’t he the type of guy that you’d make out with and then laugh at with your friends later?”

“OMG I would  so  do that.”

“Isn’t he though.”

“He so is. “

“Oh yeah, he’s so that guy, isn’t he that guy.”

“Yeah, I mean like, if he shaved.”

“I don’t know, the stubble’s kinda like--”

“Edgey.”

“You’re so right Becca.”

“You always know these things.”

“You’re so pretty, Becca.”

“Shut up, Jessica.”

“Girls. Tut tut. We have work to do.” Arwen cut through the giggling with a simpering smile.

“Oh my God, Arwen, we’re so sorry.”

“Shut up, Jessica.”

“ Girls .” Arwen’s tone carried warning, “We’re professionals, so we’ll conduct this professionally.” She turned, pinning her bright blue eyes on Gimli once more, “So little short man, who is it?”

“Who is what?” Gimli mumbled, confused.

“Oh my God, he’s so funny.”

“He’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I think he’s funny too, Katie.”

“Shut up, Jessica.”

“ Girls. ” Arwen shook her finger at them, “So who is it? Is it Aragorn? I hear your, uhm,” she paused, looking Gimli over, “ type , seem to go for his, uhm,  type .”

“No.” Gimli shook his head slowly, “Not quite.”

“Interesting.” Arwen seemed to contemplate the facts. “So not quite. Close then, yes?”

“That’s not what I--” Arwen waved her hand, cutting him off,

“And who could be close to Aragorn, I wonder? Washed up on blonder shores, are we?”

Gimli, though confused by her phrasing, couldn’t contain the rosy tint that stained his cheeks.

“Oh.  Oh . Oh sweetie.” Arwen shook her head.

“Oh  sweetie .” Chorused the squad behind her.

“Oh--oh sweetie.”

“Shut up, Jessica.”

“You know, If I were you.” Arwen began, ignoring her squad, tone sickly-sweet, “I wouldn’t waste my time. Guys like you just don’t get guys like Legolas. His daddy practically owns the place. What does your daddy do? Cheap hookers on a Friday night?”

“Oooh.”

“Shut up, Jessica, this isn’t the time.”

“You’re so stupid, Jessica.”

“ Girls .”

“Hey, don’t talk about my dad like that!” Gimli grumbled, crossing his arms and staring Arwen down.

“And why shouldn’t I, sweetie?” she waved her hand dismissively, “Anyway, your infatuation with Legolas is misplaced. Do you really think he’s ever going to like you? Do you think he likes you now? Sweetie.” She carefully put a manicured hand on his shoulder, as if trying not to touch too much of him, “Do you think he wants you here? Do you think he wants you at the game? He doesn’t. He likes  my boyfriend, someone who he’ll never get back. And if you’re looking for similarities between you and Aragorn, there are none. The Greenleafs have always had expensive taste, and you...well, you just don’t seem to add up.”

“Oooh.”

“Not today, Jessica.” Arwen snapped, staring daggers at Gimli, who seemed to wilt under her gaze. “That’s all for now, sweetie. Get off my field.”

…

“Okay men, he’s out. Over.” Pippin stage-whispered into a lime green walkie-talkie.

“He’s on the move, corridor 97, heading, as the crow flies, toward the cafeteria. Over.” Merry muttered.

Pippin reached out toward the dooknob of Saruman’s office, clutching Merry’s hand and turning the silver very slightly.

The crowd of groundskeepers stood behind them in confused silence.

“So are you gunna open it?” Began Treebeard tentatively.

“Shh, stick to the plan, stick to the plan.” Merry muttered,

“Every revolution begins with a spark.” Pippin nodded,

“We may perish but our legacy lives on no matter what.”

At this, Merry took a deep breath and dove through the door, pulling Pippin in behind him.

“We’re in.” Merry began in awe.

The room was small, maybe, but it made up for its lack of size with the extensive, and almost obsessive clutter. The light from the window streamed in and illuminated a wall covered by bookcases, all holding binders with various labels. Dairy Coupons. School Supply Coupons. Fresh Produce Coupons. Misc. Items Coupons. Personal Items Coupons. 

Merry and Pippin stared in wonder at the overflowing binders, coupons drifting to the floor like snow.

“Look on the desk.” Merry nudged Pippin and their faces split into equal gleeful grins.

“Budget milk.”

“A whole litre.”

“Looks like two.”

“Even better.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m always thinking what you’re thinking.”

They grasped each other’s hand solemnly.

“Then let’s party.”

…

Treebeard couldn’t help but look into the room when he first heard the splashes. Peering around the door, he surveyed the scene of carnage. Coupons poured from the shelves like rain, dampened by the flow of budget milk as soon as they hit the ground. Merry and Pippin stood on Saruman’s table in the middle of the carnage, one hand each clasping the two litre carton they’d just emptied.

Suddenly footsteps echoed in the hall behind Treebeard and he spun, if a little slowly, to face the vice principal.

Said vice principal paid him no mind, rushing forward and over the threshold to take in the level of destruction.

Merry and Pippin grinned upon seeing their distraught oppressor and high fived before jumping off the table. They slid on the milk covered floor, grabbing one of Saruman’s legs each and sliding between them, out the door.

Anguished cries followed them, “That’s Principal Sauron’s favourite milk!” They heard Saruman yowl through the door, “And it’s not on sale anymore!”

The groundskeepers were ready for action, putting their trowels to work on the door, disabling the electronic lock while Merry and Pippin broke a key in the keyhole for good measure.

…

Arwen watched, scowling, as Aragorn leaned casually against the outside wall of the change rooms, his jersey riding up, revealing a sculpted hip bone above his low slung sweatpants. He threw back his head and flashed his conversation partner a charming smile. The boy in question laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets nervously as he grinned up at the similarly grinning Aragorn. He reached out a hand, pulling the boy closer by his wrist and slid his hand upwards.

“Oh wow,” he nodded, impressed, “how much do you lift, that’s nice.”

“Oh you know,” the boy smirked, “enough. Could probably lift you.”

“I’m sure you could.” Aragorn winked, “I have to change, alright.”

“Sure.” Nodded the boy, “I’ll be seeing you later.”

He turned and Aragorn slapped the retreating boy’s arse, his hand lingering perhaps longer than was necessary.

Arwen looked away, rolling her eyes, she doubted that the latest victim would be getting any at all. 

Instead of continuing to watch the common antics of her idiotic boyfriend, Arwen turned her eyes to Legolas, whose long body was stretched across the nearby grass as he stared at the sky.

Arwen smirked, walking over to him and staring down, his head squarely between her legs, “Hello Legolas Greenleaf.”

Legolas’ eyes snapped open, then after a sigh, shut.

“Arwen.” He muttered through gritted teeth before quickly standing, still managing to retain his grace.

She sniffed the air primly, stepping far too close for Legolas’ comfort.

“What scent are you wearing?” She blinked, placing her pompom delicately onto her hip and thrusting it outwards, “Is it new?”

“Not that you’d know.” Legolas snapped,

“No need to be  prickly , sweetie.” She pouted, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder.

Legolas’ expression remained icy as he mimicked the gesture, his blond locks brushing against his back.

“I was thinking, Legolas,” she began softly, her voice just dangerous enough that Legolas recognised she wasn’t joking around, “I’ve never had a friend  quite like you.” She looked him up and down in an almost predatory fashion, “I thought we could go... shopping , I know how you love the mall, and like, Aragorn just won’t go with me.” She simpered, “Come on, Legolas,” she grabbed for his hand and held it, her tone turning to ice, “people like you, you always love the mall. Let’s go shopping Legolas.”

“The places where I shop, Arwen,” Legolas began, yanking his hand out of her iron grip, “you couldn’t afford half a polyester crop top. Go back to Forever Twenty-one, and leave me out of your power trips. I’m not really interested, and frankly, you shouldn’t be either.”

…

“The hall monitors are uh...prowling. I don’t think we’re exactly allowed to be here--” Sam began but was cut off as Frodo shushed him,

“Shh Sam, they’ll hear us.”

They were pressed up against the wall of of hall 100, staring directly at Principal Sauron’s office from about a fifty paces away.

“Watch out for the eye…” Sam muttered, “it’s not just the monitors we have to be careful of.”

“We’re not freshman anymore, Sam,” Frodo muttered in frustration, “it’s a peephole.”

“Whatever you say…” Sam’s welsh lilt was more pronounced when he was nervous,

“Master does as master pleases.” Gollum muttered, his cart rattling along behind the trio.

“Shut up.” Sam grumbled and Frodo shot him and warning look.

“Last dash.” Frodo nodded, his eye fixed on the door before them.

They hugged the wall, their footsteps lightly reverberating against the panelled wood. Soon, the door loomed in front of them and they stayed well clear of its peephole.

Frodo took a deep breath, steeling himself, and reached a hand towards the reflective knob. 

“Master Baggins,” Gollum hissed, reaching a wrinkled hand towards Frodo’s, “not this way, he’s always in here, he always watches, I know of another way.”

Frodo sighed, his frustration building, “So you mean you let us come all this way for nothing.”

“Master does as master wishes.”

Frodo gritted his teeth, “So. Then show us this  other way .”

“Uh…Frodo.” Sam interjected, “We have software design.”

Gollum’s eyes lit and stared hungrily at Sam, “Stupid, fat… boy ,” he grinned, “it’s Saturday! No school on Saturday!” He was almost jumping up and down with glee,

“Sorry...uh...janitor...err...Gollum...whatever. Anyway.  We have school on Saturday.” Sam raised his eyes as Gollum stopped swaying on his feet,

“Stupid,  stupid …”

“He’s right,” Frodo nodded, “extra classes and all, you know. Sorry err...Goll...Gollum, but we have to go.”

“It’s always this way…master does as master pleases…” muttered the janitor at their retreating backs.

…

Arwen Undomiel crossed her legs and stared petulantly at her father, “What is it, daddy?”

Elrond sighed and steepled his fingers, leaning on his desk. “Troubling news, princess. I’m worried about you.”

“Daddy…” Simpered Arwen, cocking her head to one side.

“I’m afraid some disturbing things have come to light and it’s no longer safe for you to be here.”

“Oh daddy, you’re so silly sometimes.”

“Princess, would you mind not referring to me as such in my place of occupation.” Elrond grumbled, he hated his daughter’s belittling tone,

“ Daddy …” Arwen shook her head in amusement,

“ Anyway , you need to leave the school. Galadriel is waiting with a car to take you home.” He looked at her sternly and she smiled knowingly.

“Daddy, what’s this all about?”

“It’s...darling, well, it’s your popularity. It’s in danger.” Elrond braced himself for what he expected to be a tantrum. “You just can’t stay here anymore...there are certain…factors.” Elrond thought of the photograph and contained his rage at the elderly Bilbo Baggins.

“Daddy I’m staying. Aragorn’s here and I love him.” Arwen stated bluntly, “You wouldn’t want to do anything that would upset me, would you?” Elrond knew it wasn’t a question.

“I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for your own good. The car’s waiting. You need to go.”

“But daddy--”

“But nothing, sweetheart.”

“Fine.” Arwen pouted, a dangerous glint in her eye, “You’ll be hearing from me, daddy. See you at prom.”

She flounced from the room and Elrond let out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding.

He slowly opened his drawer, staring at the shining object that lay within. The lime green and black head boy badge glittered in the light; he slammed the drawer shut.

“Oh Isildur.” He sighed at the empty room, “If only you could see your son now, and the hell you’ve both put me through.”


	5. Indirect Snap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is the last chapter of book 2, if you want to keep updated subscribe to The Jock In The Photograph series. we'll be posting book 3 chapter 1 next sunday because we love you.  
> WARNING: semi-graphic violence related to homophobia. there is gaybashing in this chapter.

After software design, Frodo, Sam and Gollum the janitor stood in hallway number 72.

“Press it in already, Frodo, just do it.” Sam was eating yet another muesli bar, leaning against the wall, bored.

Frodo clutched the photograph in his sweaty palms and looked up at the doorway in front of them: _Staff Computer Lab, No Student Admittance_.

“I don’t know Sam, we’re breaking the rules…” He trailed off and looked at Sam searchingly, who sighed,

“You had no problem breaking the rules up until now--”

“What rules? Boys? What rules are we breaking?” A tall, sandy-blond Junior grinned down at them jovially, lime green and black prefect badge glinting in the light,

“Uh…” Sam trailed off, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“Well...we were just...uhm…” Frodo’s sentiments were similar, and the prefect looked down upon them fondly,

“Don’t worry guys, you’re not in trouble,” he shrugged, “well, maybe you are, but it’s only a little bit of trouble.” He narrowed his eyes and looked behind them at the lime green janitor’s cart. “Is that Gollum?”

Frodo completely ignored him, his eyes widening, “You’re Faramir, aren’t you.”

Faramir completely ignored him, “I’m going to have to report Gollum, guys. He really shouldn’t be hanging around students like this,” he flicked his scarf over his shoulder, “Kinda creepy--”

“No! No, you can’t report him!” Frodo rushed to the janitor’s defence and Sam’s muesli bar dropped to the ground,

“Seriously, Frodo? Seriously?” Sam sighed and knelt to pick up his muesli bar, dusting it off before taking another bite, “He’s got a point. I mean, why is he trying to help us?”

Faramir’s gaze shifted to the photograph still clutched in Frodo’s hands, “Hey, can I have a look at that?”

“No.” Frodo put the photograph behind his back and stepped towards the wall.

“Well now I really should see it, shouldn’t I.” Faramir adopted a clinical tone, stretching an open hand toward Frodo.

“No.”

“I won’t report Gollum if you show it to me.” Faramir smirked and waggled his fingers.

“No.”

“I’ll report you if you don’t do it.”

“No.”

Faramir’s eyes wandered to where Sam was reclining against the wall, his muesli bar hanging limply in his hand, forgotten. “I’ll report him then.” Sam shrugged, unconcerned.

“Okay no. That’s too far.” Frodo paused and pursed his lips, “You’re Boromir’s brother, right? I can trust you, you’re not like him, right?”

Faramir was confused, “Well, I’m president of the photography club if that’s what you mean,” he offered.

Frodo sighed, “Good enough.” He held out the photograph.

Faramir took it reverently and peered at the scrunched paper, holding it close to his face and grinning wide, “Aragorn and Greenleaf, yeah?” Frodo nodded, “Damn, that’s something I’d get a piece of.” he winked at Sam, who raised his eyebrows,

“You mean like, Aragorn…or Legolas…or…?”

“I don’t even know man,” said Faramir, eyes still locked on the photograph, “does it matter?”

“I suppose it doesn’t.” Nodded Sam, blushing.

Frodo cleared his throat, “Anyway--”

“Dude,” began Faramir, elbowing Sam, “Boromir’s going to love this. Always loves the drama.”

Frodo stared at him, incredulous, “He’s been expelled. You do know that, right?”

Silence.

“But then…” whimpered Faramir, his face falling as he looked from Sam to Frodo, then back to Sam, completely ignoring Gollum, “Who’s in...I mean...what?” He paused, face growing pale, “Who’s playing the game? Who’s captain?”

“Uhm,” began Sam, “you are? There were about four announcements.”

“Each one more explicit than the last.” finished Frodo, cringing at the memory.

“I was in the darkroom. It’s not my fault I was in the darkroom. Announcements don’t come to the darkroom, you know.” He thrust the photograph back toward Frodo, “And it’s not like I was doing anything _weird_ in there or anything. I mean, nothing too weird. It’s a darkroom. I was in the darkroom. It’s not weird.”

“It starts in ten minutes.” Sam informed him, glancing at his watch.

“What? The darkroom?” Faramir asked, wildly looking up and down hallway 72.

“The game.” Frodo’s monotone cut through Faramir’s wild swinging.

“Shit.” He glanced around worriedly, covering his mouth, then leaned close to Sam, “Don’t tell anyone I said that, I’m a prefect.”

“Nine minutes.” Frodo tapped his foot against the floor.

“Shit, bye guys!” Faramir waved at them as he sprinted down the hallway, lime body spray almost dispersing the cloud of methylated spirits that hung around the trio.

…

The stands were slowly filling with students from both Eriador High and Mordor School for Boys, small disagreements broke out among those seated next to their opposing schools. From the girls’ change rooms trooped a confused cheersquad, seemingly lost without their leader.

“ _Oh_ my God, where is Arwen?”

“I don’t know, Tiffany, but it’s a disaster.”

“You’re so right, Becca.”

“Aren’t I always, Katie?”

“Becca, yes.”

“Shut _up_ , Jessica.”

“But what are we gunna do!”

“No one wants your opinion, Jessica. But seriously guys, what are we going to do?”

“Tiffany, why would I know?”

“Has Arwen texted anyone?”

“Oh my God, Katie, you know she never texts us. We always have to text her and she always answers in person.”

“So has anyone texted her?”

“I have, guys!”

“You don’t even have her number, Jessica.”

“Yes I do!”

“No you don’t, Jessica, you know she never gave us her number.”

“Oh my God, I know, right? I only have it because Billy Damrod used to date Arwen, right? So he hadn’t deleted her yet, so I went to Billy, and I was like, so Billy, can you give me Arwen’s number, and Billy was like, Becca you should have her number anyway, so I was like, shut up Billy this isn’t about you just give me the number this is getting ridiculous. So then Billy said, Becca, I’ll give you her number if you give me a blowjob, so then I was like, oh my God, Billy,  that’s so rank but I’ll do it. Isn’t it so rank, guys?”

“Oh my God, Becca, it’s so rank.”

“I know. Anyway, so then like, he came really quickly because I must be really good -- but I’m not a slut -- and then I was like, Billy, give me the number, and Billy was like, okay, but it was actually his mum’s number and it was really awkward because I had to like, explain why I was calling, like, the whole story. So awkward.”

“That must have been so awkward.”

“Shut up, Jessica, this isn’t your story. Anyway, so I went back to Billy and I was like, Billy, that wasn’t Arwen’s number, and he was like, I know, then I was like, Billy, that was your mum’s number, then he was like, I know, then I was like, Billy, give me Arwen’s number, and he was like, no, and I was like, Billy, just do it, then he was like, fine, give me a blowjob, then I was like, Billy, I’ve already given you one, and he was like, I know, then I was like, Billy, why, then he was like, just do it, Becca, and I was like, fine, Billy, but give me the right number. So then I gave him a blowjob and I was really good -- but like, I’m not a slut -- so then he gave me the real number and I gave it to Katie and then Katie gave it to Tiffany. AND NO ONE GAVE IT TO YOU, _JESSICA_! Oh my God.”

Up in the stands, Gimli was sitting, waiting for the game to start. His eyes caught on Legolas, standing at the bottom of the bleachers, his platinum hair shining in the sun. Legolas turned and caught his eye, smiling as he made his way towards Gimli. He looked down at his hand surreptitiously, as if reading something off it, then began, shakily,

“So…” he glanced down at his hand again, “should I hire someone to describe the game to you, or would you like me to find you a box?” He finished lamely.

Gimli stared at him, confused, “Are you making fun of me?”

Legolas laughed nervously, it was the first time Gimli had ever seen him flustered, “No…it was a joke…” he trailed off.

“Some joke.” Gimli grumbled before standing, “I’ll just leave then. Don’t really care about football anyway.”

“But--”

“And let’s face it, I’ll probably just put you off your game.” He began to walk down the stairs.

Legolas, panicking, lunged for Gimli’s hand and spun him around. The momentum propelled Gimli into Legolas’ chest; Legolas, fingers still gripping Gimli’s wrist, pulled him up onto the step Legolas was standing on. There was a moment of tense, loaded silence before Legolas huffed a sigh and pulled Gimli into a kiss.

A second later, Legolas pulled away, conceding that kissing Gimli had been nothing like anything he’d experienced with Aragorn. Gimli looked dazed, he brought a hand up to touch his lips and stared blankly at Legolas.

“Was that,” Legolas swallowed, “okay?” he finished nervously.

“Yeah.” Gimli’s voice was faint.

“Uhm, can you stay and watch the game?” Legolas wasn’t sure where his eloquent speech had gone.

“Yeah.” Gimli’s eyes hadn’t strayed from Legolas’

“I have to go, the game’s starting, well, now.” Legolas scratched the back of his head, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

…

Eomer pulled Aragorn’s face close to his own and whispered angrily into his ear, “Where the fuck are your friends?”

Aragorn seemed unconcerned, “Who?”

“My wide receivers, Aragorn. Legolas and Faramir. Where are they Aragorn, where are they.”

“I dunno.” Aragorn shrugged.

“Do you see that, Aragorn?” Eomer pointed at the Mordor football team, “Do you see how big they are? They’re bigger than you, they’re bigger than me, they’re bigger than our entire _fucking_ team.”

“Yeah but Eomer, sometimes it’s nice to have them bigger than you, you know?” He winked at Eomer, who was slowly reddening with rage. “Anyway, don’t worry, we’re really good. Do you remember that pass that I --” Aragorn stopped dead, his eyes on the stands, a grin slowly spread across his face and he pointed, “Eomer, look.”

Eomer turned his head to where Aragorn was pointing with growing trepidation to see Legolas and Gimli breaking out of their embrace.

“Did you see that, Eomer?” Aragorn began reverently, “They were kissing.” He winked, “Blondie’s finally getting some, am I right?” He held up his hand. Rohirrim, approaching the two of them with a bottle of water clutched to his chest, high fived Aragorn with his free hand before giving the bottle to Eomer, who promptly dropped it on the ground.

“That will be all, Rohirrim.”

“Yes sir.” Rohirrim nodded with the same nonchalance with which he did everything before turning sharply in military salute and leaving.

“Since when has anyone ever called him Blondie?” Eomer continued on as if nothing had happened,

“Well sometimes, when we were, you know--”

“I don’t want to know.” Eomer hissed quietly, “Just don’t do it ever again.”

Aragorn ignored him, staring out to the side of the field, “Look, look! They’re coming!”

Eomer begrudgingly obliged, dejectedly watching Faramir and Legolas running onto the field. Eomer felt a second of relief before the whistle blew.

…

“So I was just thinking, sweetie. My cheersquad.”

Galadriel sighed, staring around at Arwen’s bedroom. It was quite different to her room at school, and far more lavish. For one thing, they were sitting on a giant round bed, the bedhead covered in feathers and gold embroidery. The theme of feathers seemed to be continued around the room, ranging from feathered lamps through feathered footstools to feathered drapery. Everything was gold, white and dusty pink, and each item looked more expensive than the whole of Galadriel’s house. Including her furniture.

“What about your cheersquad, Arwen?”

“Well sweetie, today’s the day of the game. The big game.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And I’m not there,” Arwen stated, “so, my cheersquad, they’re going to need someone. They’re all nice girls, Galadriel, the fact is, they’re stupid. Very stupid. They need direction, Galadriel, and I’m not there to give it.”  She walked over to a mirror that encompassed the whole of one of her expansive walls before continuing, “So I was thinking, I know you have a… _helper_ …and I was wondering if I could, well, _loan_ him for the game.” It wasn’t a question.

“And what would you need to uh…loan…him for?” Galadriel questioned, and Arwen smiled,

“For direction, of course, sweetie.”

…

“ _Oh_ my God, who’s that?”

“Isn’t he like, an assistant teacher?”

“I think I know who he is!”

“No one cares, Jessica.”

“I know who he is.”

“Oh my God, really Tiffany?”

“Yeah. He helps out in my advanced Astrophysics class.”

“What’s that Tiffany?”

“Oh don’t worry, I do it for fun. Anyway, he helps out what’s her name, Galadriel. Yeah her.”

“Oh my God, really? She’s so pretty!”

“Shut up Jessica, we know she’s pretty.”

“But you’re prettier, Tiffany!”

“I know okay, Jessica. Shut up already, God, you’re such a lesbian.”

“I have a boyfriend!”

“No one cares, Jessica.”

“Okay girls!” The cheersquad turned in unison to stare at Galadriel’s assistant, Nigel, who grinned at them enthusiastically, his knobbly knees poking out of his training shorts.

“What do you want, Nigel.”

“Tiffany! Good to see you,” Nigel beamed, “fantastic work on that last assignment! Smashing!”

“Oh my God, Nigel, that’s not what we’re talking about now. What are you doing here?”

“The Lady of Light sent me, direct from Arwen Undomiel.” He looked down solemnly before looking up with renewed enthusiasm, “I’m here to help you, to guide you, to give you…direction.”

…

“Fucking shit!”

“When did you start swearing?” Sam asked, biting into yet another muesli bar.

“Since I dropped the password.”

“So?”

“I don’t remember it, Sam!” Frodo’s eyes were wild.

“I thought you were smart.”

“I AM smart!”

“Then why don’t you remember it?”

“This is a high stress situation!”

“Yeah, like tests.”

“This isn’t a test, Sam! THIS IS REAL LIFE!”

“Well I’m just going to stop you right there.” Sam swallowed a particularly large mouthful of oats and dried fruit, “This is not real life, Frodo, this is _school_. So maybe calm yourself down and act like it. This is about popularity, Frodo. When have you ever cared about popularity?”

“Sam,” Frodo sighed, defeated, “everyone cares about popularity.”

…

Faramir had scored twice, extending Eriador High’s lead by a sizeable margin and the crowd cheered as Aragorn made his way quickly toward the endzone, weaving around burly safeties before diving onto the grass, sliding at least three metres and smiling up at the adoring cheerleaders, led by a small, enthusiastic redheaded man holding lime green and black pom poms above his head.

A bone crunching thud echoed around the field, and Aragorn stood, ball still clutched in his hands. Faramir fell to the ground, clutching his ribs and groaning. Aragorn stared as the same player that had put Faramir onto the ground hauled him back up by the front of his shirt and shook him. Aragorn could only stare, mouth agape as the safety's fist made repeated contact with Faramir’s jaw. Bone crunched again and Faramir cried out, tears running down his dirty cheeks.

“ARAGORN!” Eomer yelled, the game had stopped around them, jeers came from the Mordor Football Team as he ran to Faramir’s aid. Faramir hung limply, blood trickling from his nose and mouth as the safety continued to beat him.

Eomer didn’t slow down when he reached Faramir, pulling the safety off by his shoulders.

“REF!” Eomer yelled, shoving the safety away and standing between him and Faramir, “What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. The safety smirked and shrugged,

“Fairy made a pass at me. What would you do?”

Eomer took a deep breath, face growing red, “While I’m _sure_ you consider yourself attractive enough for such an advance, I can assure you, with the _greatest_ of confidence, that  regardless of gender, or sexuality, no one, not anyone, would ever hit on you, you giant fucking gorilla.” Eomer took another deep, calming breath as Legolas and Aragorn finally arrived on the scene and rushed to Faramir’s side, “And while we’re at it,” Eomer was now face to face with the confused safety, “if you actually think, even for a moment, that it’s your fucking God-given right to hurt someone because of your own insecurities about your disgusting face, then I can inform you, with the _greatest of certainties_ that you are the living, breathing, scum of the earth, and you will never, ever find _anyone_ who loves you, nay, fucking _tolerates_ you, because you do not _fucking_ deserve it, you fucking _swine_.”

At this point, the ref finally arrived, looking flustered and a little bit angry. He glared at the safety, then at Eomer, “Someone call an ambulance.” He turned back to the safety, “Get off the field. I’ll deal with you later.”

By this time, both teams had gathered around the ref.

“But what for?” The Mordor Football team captain was perhaps even bigger than the safety and dwarfed the ref, who looked at him head on, unconcerned,

“If you don’t have a problem with your teammate’s behaviour, then I’ll deal with you later too.”

“But ref!”

The ref looked over at Eomer, who was kneeling next to the unconscious Faramir, “I’m going to the hospital with him.”

“If you can’t continue to play the game, you’ll have to forfeit.”

For once, Eomer was calm, “I don’t care.” He nodded at the ref, who nodded back in acknowledgement.

…

Faramir had been rushed to hospital, accompanied by Eomer, and the Eriador football team had showered in silence. They trooped back in the same silence to their respective common rooms. Legolas, who had been trying to catch Aragorn’s eye throughout the entire ordeal, was about to open his mouth to speak when Aragorn pulled open the door of the Rivendel common room. Standing in the middle of the carpet, covered in milk, swaying and clutching far too many bags of lime and pepper flavoured chips were Merry and Pippin, identical grins plastered on their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned for the even more crack filled third book <3

**Author's Note:**

> eomer just sort of....happened


End file.
